Fragile Heart
by artistwriter23
Summary: After Anna and her son escape the clutches of her abusive husband Hans, with the help of nearby townspeople, she seeks refuge with her affluent sister, Elsa Arendelle. Along the way, she grows closer with her sister whilst reluctantly finding herself falling for someone from her childhood past. Will she find the courage to open her heart again?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everybody, it's been awhile since I've seen you all. I have been dealing with the longest writer's block of my life, and on top of that, my college schedule was absolutely hectic! Now that I've been feeling inspired again, I've decided to start this story from scratch. The plot was beginning to feel stale and I felt it was best to begin the story anew. Don't worry though-the basic premise is somewhat the same, just with a few tweaks here and there.**

 ***Warning: Contains themes of abuse. Viewer discretion is advised***

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 **Anna's POV**

My eardrums felt as though they'd been submerged underwater, the ringing in my ears continuing to persist. I could feel the hot, thick blood trickle down from my battered nose and onto the bruised skin of my neck. The pain was nearly unbearable, causing dark splotches to dance in front of my vision. The only thing keeping me from falling into oblivion was knowing I had to protect my child, no matter what became of me.

I used to howl in agony when he first began beating me. Over time, I learned to keep silent, only allowing myself to release quiet whimpers. My drunkard husband believed I always deserved a "hard lesson," despite the fact that I did everything in my power to please him. It was becoming difficult to remember his many unspoken rules, and I'd often receive a beating if he decided I was being too slow in fetching his whiskey. At the moment, I was finding it far too exhausting to breathe; my fractured ribs felt as though they were puncturing my lungs. I clutched the side of my injured stomach as I knelt on the ground, desperately wishing for the pain to end.

Hans' booming voice temporarily snapped me out of my pain-induced fog.

"Where is he?"

"What?" I mumbled, my throat aching with thirst. It was taking increasingly more effort to concentrate, to say something to allow my son time to escape. The thought of lying to Hans seemed impossible, but I was quickly running out of options.

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, attempting to control my fear. His cold green eyes were brewing with anger; his grip on the whiskey bottle had tightened, and it appeared as though he planned to hurt me with it.

"George is...George is gone." I hated the way my voice trembled as I spoke. It terrified me to think I had just outright lied to a man who had the power to end my life if I didn't tell the truth.

Hans' lips curled into an ugly snarl. Though his words were slurred, they still struck terror into my heart.

"Stop lying, you stupid whore!" His dirt stained hand flew across my face, the force of the slap sending me sprawling onto my back. As I made a poor effort at trying to ignore the pain exploding throughout my entire body, my gaze slid towards the open bedroom door.

My heart immediately stopped in its tracks. My young son stood paralyzed in the middle of the hallway, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"Mommy!"

With my heart lodged in my throat, I screamed,

"George, run!"

Adrenaline rushing through my veins, I desperately scrambled to my feet in an effort to reach George in time and protect him from Hans' wrath. Just as I shoved George towards the front door, a hand snatched one of my braids and roughly yanked me backwards, my feet trying to find balance. Though the pain was enough to make my eyes water, I forced myself to not make a sound.

"How dare you try to take my son away from me!" Hans' voice rose in blind anger, his face nearly purple from rage. "Now you're really gonna pay."

Before I could react, Hans shoved me, hard, against the wall and thrust his hand onto my throat. My feet dangled helplessly above the ground as I struggled to breathe. The tightness in my chest grew nearly unbearable, my head swimming with increasing dizziness. He regarded me with sadistic pleasure as his grip tightened on my throat and my eyesight was becoming more blurry by the second.

I closed my eyes, preparing for a swift death, when I heard a sudden shattering of glass, followed by a low grunt. The pressure on my neck was abruptly released, and I promptly collapsed to the ground loudly gasping for breath. Lungs burning and with adrenaline fading, I chanced a glance to my right, and what I found shocked me to my core.

Hans' body was crumpled on the floor beside our cheap bed, broken glass from his whiskey bottle surrounding his lifeless form. My son stood over him, his bony grasp still clenching the last remnants of the bottle. A large, bloody gash was visible on the back of Hans' head, and it didn't seem like the wound would stop bleeding anytime soon.

"What did you do?" I whispered, my brain barely processing what had just transpired.

George's face was expressionless. "He wouldn't stop hurting you, Mommy. I had to do it."

"Oh God…" My head pounded as I strove to come upon a solution, a way to escape this small town without first being charged for the death of my husband and immediately arrested. A moment later, the answer came to me clear as day.

"Gather as many supplies as you can. We leave tonight."

"Where are we going?" George asked, walking over to me and standing beside my kneeling body.

"To go see my sister."

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 **Before I say anything else, I want to heavily emphasize that I take the topic of abuse very seriously, and I sincerely wish to depict both the experience and the healing process delicately and with accuracy. If anything I've written seems out of place or insensitive in any way, please let me know.**

 **Leave a review/vote if you wish. Next chapter will be up as soon as possible.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everybody! I know it's been awhile since I've uploaded, but the new semester just began and my plate has been full. Despite this, I hope I'll be able to post at least every other week, but we'll see. I promise I'll try to give you all a longer chapter the next time I upload. I thank you for your patience :) Enjoy!**

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The darkness of the night pressed down on me like a weight as I grasped George's hand, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. The image of Hans' lifeless body replayed in my mind over and over again, taunting me with what would happen if we were found out.

Being hung, shot, or worse-forced to spend months in jail with little food and water, eventually wasting away behind wrought iron bars.

My son's voice cut through the tense silence, save for the sound of small pebbles crunching beneath our fraying shoes.

"Mommy, where does your sister live?"

"About 2 days time from here, in Arendelle."

George was silent for a moment. "Is it going to be our new home?"

"Yes," I sighed, the weight of the situation heavy on my shoulders. "It will be."

"What's your sister like?"

I opened my mouth to reply when a voice suddenly called out my name.

"Anna, is that you? Where are you going?"

I froze in my tracks as my hand instinctively squeezed my son's hand. What excuse could I say that would explain walking the streets with my son in the middle of the night? With my heart lodged in my throat, I slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. As my eyes adjusted to the bright glow of a nearby streetlamp, I realized the voice belonged to one of my neighbors, Ms. Smith. She wore a long white nightgown with her greying black hair tucked beneath a bonnet, her face relaxed with the dregs of sleep.

It seemed as though I didn't have to say a word, for she soon smiled and said, "Would you like to come inside?"

Her kind brown eyes regarded me as I continued to stand there, shellshocked. That had not been the response I was expecting. Until a moment ago, I had been certain she was going to report me to the police for wandering the streets hours after curfew.

"Pardon?"

Ms. Smith walked carefully down the concrete steps of her porch until we were standing face to face.

"Take my hand, dear. I'll lead you inside." Though I hesitated at first, her sincerity was enough to slightly calm my frayed nerves, and so I took her weathered fingers in mine.

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 **Leave a review if you wish** :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey there! I apologize for the wait; my college homework just keeps on piling up. This chapter has been in the works for some time, as I've been struggling with writer's block, but I finally got through it :) This isn't one of my favorite chapters, as it's more of a filler chapter, but the next few chapters will be more interesting ;)**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

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 **Anna's POV**

I shifted uneasily in my sleep, sunlight piercing the backs of my eyelids.

 _I better wake up before I'm forced out of bed._

The thought itself sent a surge of fear through my veins, and my survival instincts kicked in. I snapped my eyes open and jumped out of bed, prepared to be scolded for not waking up earlier to cook breakfast. As I adjusted to the brightness of the room, however, the memories of last night came flooding into my mind. I was reminded of what I'd done, and a knot of anxiety formed in my chest. George's side of the bed was empty, the wrinkled sheets the only sign he'd slept there. By the looks of it, his quality of sleep had been just as fitful as mine.

"Are you awake, dear?" A sweet voice trailed from the hallway. Ms. Smith soon appeared in the doorway, a red checkered apron tied around her waist.

I blinked in temporary confusion, unaccustomed to being treated with such kindness.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my voice stiff.

Ms. Smith laughed softly. "There's no need to call me, ma'am. Judy will do just fine."

If I called her by her name, there was risk of attachment, and I couldn't risk my heart being broken more than it already had been.

After a moment's pause, Ms. Smith gestured towards the end of the hallway. "This way to the kitchen, dear."

I cautiously followed her down the hall and was soon greeted with the fragrant smells of toast and freshly made eggs. My son sat quietly at the table, concentrating on eating as much as he could.

The sight of his cheeks stuffed with as much food as they could hold made my heart clench; it was me after all who taught him to eat everything he could when he had the chance, as his next meal was never guaranteed. The few funds we had were immediately used by Hans as drinking money, and we often went hungry for days on end.

Gingerly, I sat down at the table and stared at my plate, my mouth watering against my will. I slowly picked up the silver fork and pierced it into an egg, the liquid yolk pooling into the curve of the plate. The moment the egg touched my tongue, I was met with a savory blend of salt and pepper, spices I rarely had the money to afford. My stomach growled in response; it had been awhile since I'd eaten a proper meal. I started to eat without restraint, my body aching to be fed. Within seconds, my plate was clean, and no crumbs were left behind.

Ms. Smith wasted no time in refilling our plates, even when I insisted against it.

"You've been too kind already-" I began, feeling guilty for eating so much of her food.

She smiled gently in response, giving George and I extra helpings of eggs and toast. "It's been far too long since I've had company. I really don't mind, dear."

I lowered my gaze to my feet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my friend." She squeezed my shoulder, the unfamiliar gesture comforting.

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My son and I stood on Ms. Smith's white washed porch, freshly bathed and with full stomachs. The summer breeze brushed gently against my face as I adjusted a satchel filled with supplies. We'd been given sizable rations of food and water for our trip; my chest swelled with gratitude for her generosity.

The sudden creak of the front door drew my attention.

Ms. Smith had emerged from her home with something clutched in her fist. "There's one last thing I'd like to give you. It's not much, but I have a feeling it will help."

Before I could protest, she'd planted a small sack of coins into the palm of my hand and gently curled my fingers around it.

I shook my head furiously, trying to give it back to her. "I can't take this-"

"It's alright," she interrupted. "You need it far more than I do."

Unexpected tears stung at the backs of my eyes, but I forced them back. Though I knew I was safe with Ms. Smith, I still couldn't find it in myself to show emotion. Emotions were a weakness, and Hans had made sure I knew it too.

Instead, I gave her a faint smile. "I am forever in your debt, Ms. Smith."

"Travel safe, my dear." Ms. Smith patted my hand, her eyes twinkling with sincerity.

Soon we were waving farewell, our paths diverging from one another. As I adjusted my satchel and Ms. Smith's house grew smaller in the distance, I looked over my shoulder to see her one last time; alas she was long gone.

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My hand tightened on George's grasp as we walked, trying not to lose him in the bustling crowds of the city. I'd forgotten what it was like to be among so many people. I'd lived on the outskirts of town for nearly seven years, hardly interacting with anyone. It was difficult to befriend others when my husband grew jealous and possessive of anyone who tried to speak with me.

As we navigated the crowds, I quickly found myself becoming overwhelmed with how often I bumped into everyone around me. There were countless well dressed men and fashionable women hurrying by, barely sparing me a glance. However, when they did, it was a mixture of pity and disgust. It didn't matter that we were bathed and wearing clean clothes-it was clear we didn't have high status of any sort. Even the carriages exuded wealth, what with their silk curtains and polished mahogany doors.

The more we walked around the city, the more I realized just how lost we were. Intense anxiety gripped my chest as I tried to get a grip on my bearings, and keep calm for George's sake.

George must have sensed my distress, for he asked, "Mommy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I replied in a shaky voice. "We just need to find a carriage that will give us a ride into the next town."

"What about that one?" George tugged on my arm, attempting to lead me towards a carriage sitting by a large marble building.

I nodded my head in agreement, allowing George to lead the way. He hurried along the crowd, and no matter how many times I urged him to be careful, he paid me no heed. Once we arrived at the carriage, I pulled him closer to me once more.

"What's gotten into you, my child?"

George spun around in my arms with an uncharacteristic grin on his face. "I just really want to meet your sister." There was a moment of hesitation as his smile faded to an expression of curiosity. "Is she nice?"

I smiled to reassure him. "She is."

"Good." George turned towards the front of the carriage, where an elderly driver sat. "I'd like a friend."

Before I could speak to the driver, he whipped around and asked gruffly, "Where to?"

His jowls quivered as he spoke, spittle forming at the corners of his pale wrinkled lips.

I cleared my throat, uncertain if this would work. "The city of Arendelle, please."

Wordlessly, the man grunted and extended his gnarled fingers for payment. I handed him a few coins from my satchel, suddenly eager for the quiet of the carriage.

It took us but a moment to climb in before the driver spurred the horse and the carriage began to move. I stared out the window while I wrung my hands, desperately hoping my estranged sister would be willing to help us.

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